Crazy, but All for You!
by TerryDKay
Summary: What happens when Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger meet again after the War, not as rivals, but as patient and healer? Will Hermione be successful in guiding Draco out of his dark and harmful history?
1. Chapter 1: The Encounter

"Miss Granger, we do have to warn you that the patient is one of the worst cases we've had to deal with at the institution." A Healer quietly spoke as the two walked down the long hallway all the way to the very last room.

"Thank you, but that's precisely why I'm here." Hermione flashed a quick smile, though she unconsciously fiddled with the ring on her fourth finger. It was true, after all. The war had been rather traumatic on many people - though some more than others. This was why Hermione had decided to give up her initial dream of becoming an auror and became a healer instead. With her brain, reputation and most importantly her kind heart, she managed to climb quickly up the ladder and managed to specialize in post-war mental patients.

And apparently, she was about to get her worst case yet. As she took a deep breath in, she peered into the small glass window on the door and let out a small gasp, her eyes widening in shock.

"Malfoy?

Draco Malfoy, was sane.

Or at least he thought he was sane.

Nonetheless, everybody else seemed to think he belonged in this empty, white room. He let out an uncharacteristic giggle and tried to move his feet around, but found them tied to the bed as usual. A quick pain shot through his head and he let out a groan while clutching at his platinum blonde hair.

_Click._

He cringed and looked up to see the door open. Were they here to put him to sleep? He didn't like it so much when they made him sleep. Nightmares, Voldemort, his father - they were all bad things that came to him at night.

His eyes brightened, however, as he saw a familiar looking brunette standing in front of him.

"Granger," Draco laughed, "Granger, you're supposed to be dead! Dead, dead, dead."

"What an awful thing to say, Malf-Draco." She cleared her throat and answered. How in the world had he managed to remember her anyway? He was supposed to be crazy. He was supposed to have memory problems. Most post-war patients had locked their terrible memories away.

"Awful!" He tried once again to move his bound feet. "You are dead, little Granger. I saw you."

"And exactly where did you see me?" Hermione huffed, uncharacteristically offended by Malfoy's crude remarks.

"In Hell, Granger. That's where everybody goes."

It took Hermione a good couple of minutes to fully soak up Draco's last words. She had to stay professional. She would have none of Malfoy's crazy, insane remarks. They were no longer two students at a school; she was a professional healer, and he, unfortunately, was her patient.

"It says here in your report that you're absolutely fantastic at Occlumency. Why won't you let them take a look at your mind, Draco?" She flipped through the pages casually and looked back up at the sad grey orbs. "It'd be much easier for us, you know, to help you. Right now, we can't see what's bothering you; what's in your head."

"I can't remember," He muttered angrily.

"I can help you remember."

"Don't want to remember. Hell isn't funny, Granger. You were there. You know."

"What is this hell you speak of?"

"You were there."

With a frustrated sigh, she looked around the room. Empty. Many of her other patients liked to have pictures, colors, at least something to keep them happy. But Malfoy's room? Nothing. White painted walls, the white bed, his white gown.

She pulled out a small booklet from her bag and sat on the edge of the bed. She could feel Draco's hot stare, but chose to ignore him and proceed with the normal procedures. He wasn't going to let her see his mind? Fine. She'd just figure it out on her own.

"What's this color?" Hermione asked as she flipped to the 'blue' page. It was, quite literally, a page that was colored blue. These colors were supposed to tell her of his subconscious. His mental state.

"Blue."

"Very good, Draco. Now what about this color?"

"Yellow. You must think I'm really stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid. What about this?"

"Green. Granger, I-"

"Sorry, Draco. How about this one?"

"White."

"What?"

"White."

Hermione blinked and turned the booklet towards her. That wasn't white. It was black. Pitch black.

"Good." She finally feigned a smile and jotted down a few notes. "I need to check your body, Draco. I'm going to help you get your shirt off, now."

Without another word, Draco began to unbutton his pajama-like robe top and threw it onto the floor. So he was used to this, Hermione noted wryly.

"Don't put me to sleep, please."

His voice was so quiet and pleading it had completely caught Hermione off-guard. For a brief moment, she felt an immense amount of compassion towards the man who once used to be her tormentor.

"I won't put you to sleep. I'm just checking for any scars." After all, self-harm was not uncommon among these patients.

Large scar on his back, but that one was old. Where? She wondered. A couple of battle scars, she had a couple of those too. No cuts on his wrist, none on his abdomen. It seemed as if he hadn't exactly been hurting himself, which was, of course, a great sig, though, Hermione found herself focusing heavily on the white, healing scar on his left arm. The symbol, was so damn familiar.

"Don't touch that!" Draco yelled, "He will come find you."

"He is dead." Hermione quickly retorted as she once again, regained her composure, knowing exactly whom he was referring to.

"_You_ are dead, Granger." With that, he let out a loud fit of giggles.

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><p><strong>Hi! This is my first stab at a Harry Potter fanfiction. It'll probably be multiple chapters long. Pairing is DracoxHermione, plus a bit of mix here and there as the story proceeds. Hope you guys somewhat enjoyed the first chapter and I hope to receive some constructive criticisms, praises, reviews, etc. ! Thanks!<strong>

**-T**


	2. Chapter 2: The Stolen Memory

When Hermione Granger returned from work that day, she quickly washed up and sat in her most loved couch in her one-bedroom apartment, sipping at her herbal tea as she ran her chocolate eyes across the words of The English Patient.

_"Every four days she washes his black body, beginning at the destroyed feet…Above the shins the burns are worst. Beyond purple. Bone..."_

Why did the image of a deranged Malfoy suddenly jump into her head? With a shocked, almost disgusted face, she shut the book and hurriedly rose up from the seat, which caused some of the hot tea to spill on her naked foot.

"Ow! Crud!" She shouted and quickly placed the tea on the nearby table and ran to the bathroom to cool the burn down. As she dipped her feet in the cold water, sitting on the edge of her tub, she looked down and stared blankly at her empty fingers.

Where was the ring? Where were the glory and the happiness she'd expected after the war? She thought she had it all figured out. She and Ron would date – which they were, but only casually – then a bit later, he would propose to her. They would get married and have brilliant, beautiful children. She would get a job as an auror, and so would Ron and Harry. Then they would live happily ever after, sharing stories of the heroic times with Harry and Ginny and the rest of the family.

"Pathetic," Hermione murmured as she gently splashed the water with her feet. What did she have now? No official boyfriend, a job as a healer – taking care of none other than Malfoy – and quite frankly, no real joy.

She spent the rest of the night sulking, waiting for an owl from Ron that never came, and eventually just going to bed at the couch. Needless to say, her body was stiff and sore all over when she woke up the next morning, and though the last thing she wanted to see was an her insane 'ex-enemy', she knew it was her job.

It was her job. Nothing more, nothing less.

"You're back," Draco looked down at his hands and spoke when Hermione entered. "They put me to sleep with the needle, you know. You said you wouldn't put me to sleep." He shook slightly and reached out for her hand. Suddenly taken aback, Hermione yanked her hand back – so terribly unprofessional, she knew – and her patient flinched and sat still.

"Sorry," She quickly apologized and took her notebook out. "Did you have dinner last night, Draco?"

"Yes," He replied, but Hermione could tell he was unenthusiastic in his answer. Perhaps this conversation bored him; he seemed to be quite a unique character, after all.

"What did you have?"

"Shit food. Same shit every day. And everyone's so bloody scared of me." He laughed, then fell silent again.

"Too bad. I'll talk to them about your food."

"You should bring me some chocolate tomorrow. Haven't had those in awhile."

"I'll try, Draco. Er, so, do you want to tell me what's been going through your head since last night? Or anything outside your head that's been happening?"

Silence.

"Dra-" She began.

"I'll show you." Then he cut her off.

"What?"

"You wanted to see my memories. I'll show them to you."

Hermione's heart began to beat quickly. Oh my goodness, she hadn't expected him to give in this easily. So was this all that took? Just some conversation and (though somewhat forced) interest? What would she see? What would he show her?

Before she knew, he had reached out to touch the side of her face and she found herself immersed in his sad grey orbs.

_Hermione threw her head back in laughter as Draco told her a joke. When the noise subsided, she stared up at him with those sultry, and oddly innocent brown eyes. The boy felt his heart beat fast, though he quickly turned to his butterbeer instead._

_"Too much butterbeer is bad for you, Draco," She giggled and reached over to gently graze her fingertips against his. At that moment, Draco almost choked on his drink and managed to put it back down onto the table, but not before coughing like a madman._

_Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione looking as concerned as she was amused. His heart beat even faster._

Hermione couldn't find the right words for the longest time after she pulled out of the memory. She never went to drink butterbeer with Draco Malfoy. He never told her that joke and she never shared these moments with him. It had been Ron. This exact memory. Ron had been the one who choked on that butterbeer.

"That's not your memory. How are you doing this? She asked.

"Of course it's mine. It's ours, Granger." He defended angrily, and for a split second, the brunette thought he would jump at her.

"Draco," Hermione breathed shakily, "This was never your memory. This is mine. But for some bloody reason, you have it, and…Ron's been replaced by you. What are you doing? How did you get this?"

The blonde snorted loudly, which in turn both surprised and offended Hermione.

"I'm not insane like they say, Granger. I've just seen a lot of things. Bad things. You've seen them too. You just chose to forget." He mumbled quietly, subconsciously rubbing his left arm up and down. "You don't remember. That day I found you in the forest."

"Uh, alright. Let's get that shirt off of you. I want to check your scars." She panicked. Shit, shit, shit! She needed to stop panicking. This was just her patient. She just had to remember her training and do exactly and only the things she was taught to do. Thankfully, Draco didn't say anything else as he pulled the shirt off of him. Gods, when did he become so fit? She almost wanted to reach out and touch him.

"Your hair looks like cotton candy." He spoke again.

_Please stop talking_, Hermione begged inwardly.

"It looked like this the day I found you under the dirt. There was so much dirt. And you were bleeding. Weasley nowhere to be seen. You were still alive then, though. You were thinking about Weasley and I liked it. I took it, Granger. I made it mine because you looked so happy."


	3. Chapter 3: The Stories

"Malfoy? Are you serious?" Ron nearly choked on this drink and answered, and Hermione distinctly noticed how quickly his facial expression changed at the mention of their old enemy. His usually pale cheeks were immediately reddened at the mere name and Hermione could only assume it was because of the negative leftover feelings from their school years and the war.

"Yes. He's gone absolutely…crazy. It's awful, really. I wish I could do something for him. It's ridiculous, because that's supposed to be my job but I'm not doing very well so far. Every time I go near him, it's like there's something missing. He always talks nonsense but I always get the feeling that it's not really nonsense, do you know what I mean?" She questioned with a hint of exasperation, and followed suit with her fruity cocktail.

Here she was, dressed up in her most expensive, light pink dress. It was beautiful, in her opinion anyway. She'd loved it the moment she saw it. When she'd brought the medium-length, flowy dress home, however, she broke down in the middle of her bedroom. The war had affected everyone, not just her patients. The years she lost – those years she should have been holding onto her heart and dreaming about true love, she'd been holding onto her life instead and hope for the end of the war. Now? She couldn't have those years back. She felt bloody numb in the shitty dress. She didn't feel anything towards this man she claimed she loved, and she always blamed it on the war.

How odd the contradictions of her emotions were! She so desperately hoped that Ron would propose soon, yet here she sat, thinking that she had no true feelings for him. What was a girl to do?

"…It's like there's something missing…"

Ron stared at his best friend in absolute shock. She wasn't supposed to remember. Malfoy said he had Obliviated her. Was this even possible? Or maybe he was overreacting. It wasn't as if she was remembering the exact events, right?

He, on the other hand, remembered everything.

_"Hermione!" Harry shouted, and immediately took her frail, still unconscious body into his arms from Draco's._

_"What did you do to her? Why did you bring her here? Why are you doing this for her? You hate her! You hate us! I should kill you now before you go back to You-Know-Who and hurt more people!" Ron shouted, clearly upset by seeing Hermione in such a state, and with nobody else but Malfoy!_

_"I didn't do anything to her. I found her on a war-ground near a forest. Can't recall where exactly. She was completely out of it, and she was dying. I had to save her somehow. She's been staying with me for the last four months."_

_"We thought she was dead! Do you have any fucking idea how devastated we've been?" The redhead continued to spit, his face now as red as his locks._

_"I apologize. But I was underground. In my own hiding. I couldn't leave while the Death Eaters were around."_

_"But you're one of them!"_

_"I wish I wasn't."_

_When Ron opened his mouth to retort, Harry reached out and gently placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. Silent thanks, Ron noted bitterly. A silent thank you from his best friend, the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, to this less than nothing Junior Death Eater._

_"Before I leave," Draco spoke up again, "I've obliviated Hermione. She won't remember spending even a single day with me. So tell her what you have to, but please remember you musn't talk to her about me. I refuse to put her in danger. I can't do that to her."_

_Ron had always been a bit on the sluggish side, but he wasn't dumb. Through this war, he'd learned to read others better than anyone. He had to in order to survive, after all. And right now, he realized Draco Malfoy was in love with Hermione Granger. Was she in love with him too?_

_He never found out, for Malfoy left as quickly as he had come._

"Ron? Are you alright?" Hermione chimed, wearing a bright smile on her face. "You seem a little bit distracted today. We can go back to your place, if you want. The fancy dinner's not really my thing anyway, as you probably know already."

"No, it's alright," He replied, "Everything's great."

_"She's a mudblood. Do you know what that means, Draco?"_

_"No, father." The eight year old Draco Malfoy whimpered, trying his best to keep his back straight even if he was inwardly cowering in fear. Lucius had been drinking again. Stress, alcohol, violence, misery, then stress again: it was a disgusting cycle._

_"It means that you should not be associate yourself with such a person. Do you understand?"_

_"Yes, father."_

_"Then why did I see you speaking to the O'Brien's little girl?"_

_"I'm sorry, father."_

_"Apologies are for the weak, Draco. Apologies do not accomplish anything, Draco!" Lucius yelled and raised his cane._

_His mother's scared blue eyes peeking through the study doors were the last thing he saw before he felt a sharp sting on his back._

Draco's eyes shot open, and though he knew both his wrists and ankles were bound to his bed, he thrashed about and screamed in an effort to get himself away from this room. Soon, his fit was turned into quiet sobs, and once he had quieted down, an unfamiliar healer entered to wave her wand once more and put him to sleep.

"Hermione. Where is she?" He wearily mumbled before passing out on the bed. The next time he woke up, he found the wanted woman sitting beside him, her face as worried as ever, writing on her notepad.

Draco Malfoy was not happy.

"You told me they weren't going to put me to sleep." Draco hissed, and Hermione could see right away how truly angry he was. Nonetheless, after about a minute of silent staring, she realized he was just scared. His hands were still trembling as he sat on his bed, his ankles still tied down.

"I'm sorry, Draco. I really am. I'll stay until you fall asleep tonight. I promise. I won't let them put you to sleep again."

She was sincere in her apology, he could tell. He accepted, but he was still a Malfoy. He was manipulative – he was still that man.

"If you're really sorry, free my legs. I want to walk." He demanded, staring deeply into her chocolate eyes. Mm, chocolate. He hadn't had one of those in a long, long time. The food here was absolutely revolting. Only if people could see he wasn't insane. Everybody else was insane. How could they forget about the blood and the war so easily? Smiling as if nothing had happened. Treating him like this.

"I can't."

"You have your key and I don't," He laughed loudly at Hermione's simply stupidity. "So put the key in the hole, and turn."

"I hear you had a nightmare last night?" She ignored his question and asked her own, though she peered out the window quickly to see if any of the other healers were around. Draco wouldn't hurt her, right? She hated him, and she thought him vile, but right now, she felt sad for this man. And for some odd reason, she trusted him with all his heart.

"My father. He's dead now, though."

"Still not telling me anything?"

Draco shook his head.

"Four months is a lovely time to fall in love," Draco mumbled under his breath as he watched Hermione's nimble fingers working at the belts around his ankles. "Winter. It was cold. You were cold but then I found you."

Hermione frowned a little, frustrated more than anything else that she had no idea what the hell he was talking about. But, then again, she wasn't being very professional at all. Maybe she would quit this job.

"There!" She happily sighed as the two belts finally came off, and she nodded at Draco to signal it was alright to move.

Draco wiggled his toes around, then his ankles and eventually stepped off of the bed. Contently, he walked about the white room with a confident stroll that made Hermione giggle ever so slightly. He turned around at the sound, and walked towards Hermione, and she gave him a whimsical shrug.

Then the patient kissed his healer.

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><p><strong>Hi, everyone! Thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate it. I love all your reviews so much, and please leave me some commentscriticisms. I love it, and I love hearing what other people think about the story. **

**xoxo, Terry.**


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